


Montag The Magnificent™

by Laskara



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Aggressively American author, I dont know what its about yet stay tuned losers, Other, shitpost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laskara/pseuds/Laskara
Summary: Montag is magnificent. He refuses to become one of the poors just because he completely fucked his own life up.





	1. Montag escapes his mother's birthday wrath

Full of birthday energy, he made a deal with a demon and murdered his dad, and then similarly full of birthday energy, he fled in fear of his furious and powerful mother. He ran and ran, weaving through the trees of the dense forest of his home, his mother breathing down his neck with fury the entire time. He escaped, in the end, only because she had spotted a cow and had the overwhelming instinct to bench press it to assert her incredible strength to anyone who might witness the act, and in her distraction, young Montag escaped into a seemingly abandoned hunter's cabin somewhere in Vesuvia. "Shit." He panted. "Shit, jesus fuck. Thank fucking god that cow was hanging out in the forest or I'd be done for." He looked around for the most important thing on his list of priorities- more black stuff to smear under his eyeballs as he'd sweated off all his eyeliner during the flight for his life. He frantically flitted around the cabin looking for some suitably smearable black shit, but an impressively huge toddler the size of a mortal seven year old coughed from the corner of the cabin as if to get his attention. Lucio turned on his heel, his purposely billowy clothes billowing villanously as he came to face the child. "What do you want, little boy?" he snarled.

In a remarkably deep voice for a toddler, the boy answered, "Fuck you, this is my house." He launched his foot skyward, but its ascent was interrupted by the exiled prince's balls, asshole and taint. 

Montag shreiked in falsetto to the heavens while the beefy toddler ran away to hide under his bed, which comedically lifted the entire bed a few inches off the floor. "I'M BECOMING THE COUNT OF VESUVIA AND BANNING HOME OWNERSHIP FOR PEOPLE UNDER EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE!" he hollered with a voice like the beegees. "YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU KICKED ME IN THE BALLS!"

"You can't!" the deep-voiced baby answered him. "You suck and you'll never amount to anything, get out of my house!"

"You'll regret that!" Montag called to the huge baby as he waddled out of the house and back out into the chilly forest, clutching his jewels. "Shit." he said to himself, trying not to feel spooky alone in the dark forest, which was not an admission to his awareness of which forest it is as much as his noticing that the surrounding forest was incredibly dark and likely haunted as shit. "I'm gonna have to make up a new name so my mom doesn't fucking find me. What kind of names do people have around here?" he bit his lip as he continued to waddle out toward where he could see light. As he drew into a clearing, he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, and also the only one who didn't live in his village. "OH, wow, hi! Who are you? I'm Monty." He said stupidly and like a dumbass. 

"Eww, go away", she said, waving her hand, her silky sleeve waving as she made her shooing gesture. "I don't talk to the poors."

"Oh, I assure you, I am no poor. I'm a mysterious foreign prince and I have a lot of money. I just left it at home."

"Go get it then." the ethereally gorgeous woman said. "I'll be here. I've got time."

"Alright!" Montag cheered, already having forgotten his taint, ball and ass pain. "i'll go get my money, you wait right here." Off he ran, with no coherent plan in mind to get himself some cash money wad to impress the mysterious lady. Two hours later, he sat in the market square beside a stall selling apparel, holding a handpainted sign. "HONEST OPINION ON HOW YOU LOOK IN THAT, 20 MONEYS." it read. In his hand, he already held sixty moneys, which he determined was not enough. His clever plan had failed, as the sun was setting and that hot snacc he'd seen had almost definitely gone inside where it was safe. With pain in his heart, he stopped another street urchin, one who he was positive must be an urchin due to his anemic pallor. "HEY! KID! COME HERE!" he said, beckoning him over with an open hand. the kid turned to him, confused, and pointed to his own chest with a bewildered expression. "YEAH MOTHERFUCKER, I MEAN YOU. COME HERE. I need to ask you some sensitive information."

"Alright." the kid said with an even thicker foreign accent than Montag had and approached him promptly. "What could you possibly ask of me, stranger?"

"Where do the bougie poor people sleep? I'm flat ass broke but I come from money and also don't want anyone to know that I am poor."

Julian stared at him uncomfortably. "You didn't even ask me my name, what the fuck is this?" he asked with an uncomfortable drawing of his hands toward his body.

"That's because it doesn't matter, please help I'm transfinancial, I'm a rich prince and have been temporarily inconvenienced and I need somewhere soft to sleep and also a lot of money." he said. 

Internally, Julian decided that this fucker absolutely, positively could not come back to Mazelinka's cabin with him. Mazelinka could certainly deal with him, but he didn't want to jam his pillows into his ears and try to fall asleep over the sound of the screaming while she bent this outrageous man backward over the kitchen table and took a potato peeler to his dick. "Uh... I'm going home now. Please don't follow me." he said. 

"I'm definitely following you, is your family nice?" Montag said, getting up immediately. "I could pay them but I'm not going to. I'm hiding this money and you never saw it." he said, sliding it down his cleavage to conceal its presence.

"No, my family is super mean. I'm uh, I'm from a pirate family. We all wear eyepatches, and say arr and stuff, and we're gonna eat you because you taste better than hard tac and grog. Please go away." Julian insisted. Despite his advice, Montag didn't go away, and indeed followed him all the way back to his house. As Julian opened the door and the house was actually full of pirates, Montag felt shock and betrayal as he realized some poor kid off the street had told him the totally not made up truth. 

"Hello pirates!" he said cheerily. "I need money, can you help me get money? I heard pirates are great at that." he said.

A hot milfy snacc immediately hit Julian's ass with a wooden spoon. "Ilya, I told you we aren't hiring, why did you bring him home!" she accused. 

"I didn't! He followed me even though I told him to go away!" the teen whined. 

"Then why does he know that we're pirates!?" she asked with another smack from her culinary weapon of ass destruction, still absolutely convinced this man was present by Julian's careless hand. 

"I told him we'd eat him because he tastes better than hard tac and grog." Ilya whined, rubbing his buns. "I wanted him to go away, he asked me where the bougie poor people sleep!" 

Mazelinka turned to the bitchboy at the door. "they sleep at the bottom of the ocean, prick." she informed him.

"I'm sorry was that a threat?" Montag asked. 

"It was a promise." She assured. 

"I could totally fight you, old woman, but I choose not to do so at this time. But just for the record, I would win. I'm a top tier fighter, my muscles, my sword, and my dick are yuge, I'm a winner and I'm just the best." Montag said as he backed away, making his first wise decision in his entire life.

"My dick's detatchable and im going to throw it up your asshole as you bravely run away." she said.

"You will not, because I am too fast." Montag said, already running. With a heroic thrust of her arm, Mazelinka sent her massive strapon tumbling end over end on its trajectory toward Montag's tightly clenched lillywhite asshole. Unfortunately, Montag was correct, and he was much too fast. Mazelinka's dildo hit the ground with a shattering clash, the force with which she hucked it greater than its form could take. Montag found himself at the docks, among the poors, smelling the nasty dirty water smell that has plagued city beaches since the first one was founded in the neolithic era. He looked to a group of poors in hopes of sympathy, but they all scowled at him, defending their pillows and sleepingbags. He attempted to wrest a pillow from a sickly urchin, but the adult poors jumped him and forced him to break loose and run to the end of the docks. "This is not illustrious." he said aloud as he curled up on some gross gnarly wood at the end of the dock.

"No one cares!" a female poor screamed at him while throwing an empty bottle. 

"Fuck this. I'm sleeping in a boat." Montag announced, then promptly climbed into an unguarded ship so he could have the human decency of using a hammock. "Fuck the outdoors." he announced sleepily. With a sneering pout, he curled up in a cozy hammock and let the waves rock his poncy ass to sleep.


	2. Montag Rides a Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He rid boet

The next morning, poor innocent Julian, his ass cheeks still bruised from Mazelinka's spoon brutality, attempted to load himself into his quarters only to find Montag's ass sleeping in his personal ocean nap adventure hammmock. Knowing that eventually they'd run out of things other than hard tax and grog to eat, ilya quietly loaded without waking the unsuspecting victim of high seas cannibalism. Finally, all his shit loaded in, he locked the door and quietly but violently slammed himself into his plush doctoring chair to wait for the boat to leave port and hopefully for Montag to awaken so that he could totally punk him for sleeping on the wrong boat. 

Though he and Portia were just children, they were allowed the very official titles of ships doctor and cartographer, which in his case meant he wasn't required to be on deck unless he was explicitly asked since he had doctor shit to do, which was usually just studying all his stolen doctor books and practicing surgeries on prisoners so he wouldn't kill the crew if he had to perform it on one of them. For now, he chose his scariest doctoring book and started hitting dat book so that his hammock invader would see him reading it when he got up. 

Several hours later, Montag moaned and rolled into the floor with a thud. Realizing he was not alone and that he saw the boy from last night, he had a pressing question. "Where do I pee?" He asked, knowing that his previous guess of 'wherever I feel like' was no longer the answer. 

"Don't look for places to go in the cabin, just stick your peepee out the window like a civilized person." Ilya said without looking up. 

"That'll work for me, but what would I do if I was a girl?" Montag asked, approaching the window to stick his peepee out.

"Stick your peepee out the window, but girlier." Ilya said. 

"What if I was a fat girl and I couldn't get my butt through the window to stick my peepee out?" He asked, sticking his peepee out the window and peeing into the ocean without realizing anything was amiss in his newly awakened stupor.

"You'd just have to figure something out then, I guess. If I was a fat girl I guess I'd pee in a jar and then dump the jar out the window, or something. But I'm not, so I can use all of my Jars for important things, like leeches." He gestured proudly to his many leech jars, most of which had leeches inside. 

The two of them heard stomping and Mazelinka's furious voice. "ILYA! DIDNT WE TALK ABOUT STICKING YOUR WIENER OUT THE WINDOW?" she yelled as Montag laced his pants back up. 

"No?" Julian pretended so he wouldn't get the spoon again. 

"STOP DOING IT! PEOPLE LOOKING OVERBOARD CAN SEE!" she continued to yell. 

"Why are they looking overboard? Stop looking overboard and you won't have to see my weewee." he snapped defiantly. 

"SOMEONE COULD GO BLIND!" 

"THEN I'LL STICK IT OUT THE WINDOW LONGER SO IT GETS A TAN, THEN EVERYONE CAN KEEP THEIR SIGHT MAZELINKA!" he yelled back. 

she stomped off, laughing. Apparently she stomped whether she was mad or not, it was part of her threatening aura. When he thought she was back out of earshot, Montag asked, "uh, so I take it you intentionally gave me bad advice, Ilya?" 

"Uh, no, you don't get to call me Ilya because you say it like you're throwing up in your mouth a little. I'm Julian." 

Montag narrowed his eyes. "you mean to tell me you can just fucking pick your own name like that?" 

"Yeah. Who's gonna stop you, the police?" Julian said. 

"And you don't have to have the same name to everyone?" 

"Nope. As many as you want. It's called an alias in the crime business." He said. 

"Wow, so I can just pick my own name!" He said, having an epiphany. "Somehow this hadn't occurred to me. I already had big plans, but now I have bigger plans. I'm gonna pick some wild exotic name and be fabulous while I take over Vesuvia and ban home ownership for people under the age of eighteen." 

Julian bit his lip and tried to avoid the insane mans ramblings. "Why are you helping me, anyway? I clearly slept on your boat." 

"Oh, I'm not helping." Ilya stated. "I need to practice surgery and you have way too many arms. Like, at least twice as many as you actually need." 

"I think I have the perfect number of arms, actually." Montag replied. 

"I mean, sure, you do right now, but you won't when we run out of meat in two months." Montag stuck his whole head out the window and looked toward the shore- if he stole a dinghy now, he could still make it. With spiderlike quickness, he climbed out the window and across the hull. He started to skitter toward the first dinghy he saw, ready to jump in and row back to safety. 

"Dude, I was kidding!" Julian yelled after him, sticking his entire head out the window to watch in horror as a man climbed all over his boat without first doing enough pcp to make it believable.

"Really? Your delivery's pretty good, then, I bought it." Monty replied. 

"Yeah, if there's any body part you have too many of, it's teeth." He laughed. "I need to work on my dentistry." Montag jumped into the boat and cut the ropes so it'd release, falling harshly into the sea while Julian watched out the window in horror, his face so bloodless that his usually pale complexion had gone translucent.

"I was kidding that time too!" He yelled, his voice growing fainter as the ship passed. "have you ever heard a joke in your life? How will we dock our ship if you have the dinghy? Stay there! I'll make them stop!" 

Montag laid in the bottom of his stolen dinghy, the wake from the passing ship rocking it wildly. He didn't answer. After a while he sat up and frantically rowed for the shore, a nearly impossible feat. Fortunately, the crew of a fishing boat mistook him for a wreck survivor and towed him the rest of the way in before he died of heat exhaustion from toiling in the sun with nothing to drink.

Later that night, Montag sat next to a fountain in the palace gardens, lamenting his fate. He looked into the water's reflective surface. "Wow, mom was right. I'm a total fuckup." He whined. 

"Woah, buddy, no you're not. You're the fucking best, you haht had a shitty week. Things are gonna turn up Monty any day now, because you deserve it." His reflection said, giving him a charming smile and the gun fingers. 

"Yeah, you're right. I'm fantastic, mom's a dumbfuck, she doesn't know shit about who is and is not destined for failure or wasn't worth pushing out." 

"Yeah, fuck our mom and fuck that doctor. He doesn't know shit about how many arms or teeth we should have and we were right to take his dumb dinghy. I hope he never gets it back." The reflection said. 

"Right you are, mirror Monty. Talking to you always makes me feel better, you always seem to know what's up." Regular Monty said. With a wink and the gun fingers, mirror Montag vanished and only his not Al boring reflection remained. "Right. Time to geta better job than telling people they don't look as good as me when they try shit on at the marketplace." He said, continuing to casually trespass on palace grounds.   
In a sudden burst of luck, he heard some royal guardsmen complaining. 

"Wow, all our recruits suck shit and smell like wet garbage." One guardsman instructor complained. 

"God, I know. They can't even fold socks." The other yelled performatively over the weeping of all the new trainees. "How can I trust them to stab the enemy if they can't fold some socks?" 

"Excuse me, gentlemen!" Montag announced, "I'm a great sock folder, just the best, and I'm willing to fight in exchange for money." He said. 

"So you're uh... Here to enlist?" One of the trainers asked, bewildered. 

"Haha no, I'm not a Vesuvian citizen, silly, I can't enlist. I'm offering to fight for Vesuvia in exchange for dollars. I'm a very smart businessman and the best fighter that ever lived." He said. 

The trainers glanced at each other, then back at the fool before them. "go talk to the count." One of them said. The other pointed in a direction best suited to locating the count.

"Wow, seems like you guys get that I'm important. Thanks!" He swayed off toward the direction he'd been pointed, surprised to find the count resting for sleepytime because it was night. "Excuse me! Count? I'm here to offer my services as a mercenary." Montag shouted. 

"Who the fuck are you?" The count asked blearily. 

"I'm Lucio, motherfucker, and I'm here to offer mercenary services." He beamed with all of his confidence.

"That is not how you get hired." The count sighed. 

"I take it I did get hired, though." Lucio asserted. 

"Does saying yes get you out of my bedroom?" The count asked. 

"Sure, if that's an official order." Lucio winked. 

"Congratulations, welcome to Vesuvia's mercenary army. Get the fuck out of my bedroom you weirdo." He said, rolling onto his side so he wouldn't have to keep looking at Lucio. 

Lucio squealed with joy and scampered down the hall, disappearing around a corner and then jamming his entire ass into one of the guest rooms to sleep while no one was looking. As soon as his back touched the feathery down, he knew he'd just keep squatting here forever. Nobody uses every room in a palace, and it seemed easy enough to just sneak around to get food and baths time. He took a deep breath, full of 'my very smart reflection is always right and I just got a profitable job' energy, and immediately passed out exhausted from all his dipshit dinghy dealings.


	3. Chapter 3

Montag approached the mass of armored folk gathered outside the castle at the crack of noon, looking magnificent as usual in whatever armor he was able to piece together from the count's arms room. "Who in the name of fuck are you?" a rather sergeanty-looking man asked. 

"Hi, I'm the great Lucio, part of the Vesuvian mercenary army, I'm here to party." he stated. 

"You're in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time, soldier!" the sergeant screamed, the wind of his statement ruffling the great Lucio's luscious locks. "You were supposed to be here four fucking hours ago to get issued your rations. Come with me, you useless motherfucker." He continued to scream while he grabbed Lucio roughly by the wrist and lead him to a diminished-looking pile of supplies. "Aw!" the seargeant yelled again. "Don't tell me you're one of the poor mercenaries and came without a rucksack and bedroll, too. Where did the count find you motherfuckers?" the sergeant grabbed him again and dragged him to a scanty heap of seven rucksacks. "Try to find one with a straight frame so nobody has to slow down and buddy carry you when you inevitably get injured." the sergeant wiped his brow. Lucio considered yelling back at him to assert his dominance, but something deep down inside him felt terrified of the screaming man in the same way he'd spent his entire life terrified of his mother, so he couldn't summon the courage. "FUCK!" the rather important looking military official schouted. "We're out of food. We're gonna have to go buy your late, stupid ass some food. Come on, Lucy. Everyone else, take uh... time. Ya'll just take some time to rest or whatever, this dumbass is gonna get hungry and I won't have him mooching off everyone else." 

The sergeant dragged him by the arm back down to the market to get him a bunch of hard tac and cheese, when fair lucio, the dumbest ass, spotted a familiar face. "Oh, hey, it's Jules. Hey there Doctor Jules!" he yelled, waving at a particularly drenched Julian who had been sent to swim back ashore and retrieve the dinghy so that his adoptive mom's pirate ship would be able to dock. He stood, wringing his shirt with a grouchy expression and seaweed hanging from his hair.

"I'm sorry, did you just say that furious, soggy young man is a doctor?" the sergeant asked. 

Time slowed down for Lucio as he assessed the situation. The man who had kindly offered to knock his teeth down his throat yesterday morning was now being noticed for a rare skill by an army official. "Yeah, he's a pirate doctor! He said he knows dentistry as well." Lucio said happily, his eyebrows curling with evil as he realized why this would interest an army. "What a talented young man."

"A pirate doctor, you said? So he has broken the law." The sergeant said, in a tone of voice that indicated he'd be rubbing his hands together with greedy anticipation if he didn't think Lucio would wander off and get himself lost the second he released his wrist. "Excuse me young man-"

Julian cut him off, holding his palm out flat. "I heard the entire conversation, you're going to offer not to send me to jail if I become an army medic. Understood, no further need."

"And smart, too!" the sergeant said with pride. "Let's get the both of you geared up!" After a quick trip through the market, the young men were outfitted with enough food and water for months of stamping around looking for barbarians or whatever dumb bullshit they were supposed to do. Throughout the entire process, Julian glared at Montag the enormous fool. As they all set up their tents and laid out their bedrolls that evening, Julian edged away from the group, choosing his site far from the group and laying out his bedroll without a tent. "FOOL!" the sergeant yelled. "Come closer, or you'll fall prey to wolves."

"I'll be fine! No lupine concerns whatsoever." Ilya shouted back, edging further by inchworming in his bedroll. "Wow, I'm so tired, better just let me go to sleep!" The sergeant squinted. 

"Are you trying to run away?" he asked. 

"No? That's absurd, why would I ever do that?" he asked innocently, inchworming faster. The sergeant gave chase. 

"Wow, it seems like you're really not into sleeping with the group! That's OK, I'm gonna give you a buddy." He yelled, scooping him up effortlessly and fireman's carrying him back to the group. "Why not our good buddy Lucio here? He seems like he could use a friend." 

"No, he doesn't need a friend. He seems fine." Ilya insisted.

"He definitely needs a friend, I haven't seen him make a single one today." The sergeant insisted. "Let's be friendly." he said, setting him down beside the fool.

"No, I'm good, I have friends. Everyone loves me." Lucio replied offhandedly.

"Naw, buddy, you need a friend that isn't imaginary. Hang on to this doctor for me, he seems kinda sneaky." the sergeant said. 

"None of my friends are Imaginary." Lucio said. "One hundred percent of my friends are real. I have so many friends, the most."

"Yeah, because now you've got a real one right here. I'm gonna go yell at my privates." The sergeant said, leaving the mercenaries to themselves and attending to his squad.

"Did he just tell us he was going to yell at his cock and balls?" Lucio asked Julian. Julian sighed deeply and shook his head no before rolling over in his bedroll and covering his head so he could pretend he was anywhere else. 

"He's not doing it, He can't have actually meant that. Is he fucking with us? Who just announces they're going to scream at their own dick?" 

"Please stop talking to me." Julian whined. The sun inched further past the horizon, the land grew darker as Lucio pondered his query in silence to show some token respect for his request to be left alone. When he'd nearly fallen asleep, the fool spoke again.

"Jules, please, I'm trying to solve a fucking mystery. This man said to me, with his own mouth and his very own voice, prompted by no one, that he was excusing himself so he could go yell at his privates, and I want to know what to make of that. Is he flirting? Is this how you flirt?" he gestured wildly with concerned confusion.

"He's not flirting, please, for the love of everything good in the world, stop thinking about it. I can smell the smoke wafting out of your ears." Julian rolled further, as if turning his back to Lucio would allow him to escape his presence. He wished he'd never explained who took the dinghy and been sent ashore to retrieve it, he could still be aboard the ship right now, sleeping comfortably in his cot on the way to intercept trade ships for profit.

"How aren't you upset that he said he was going to scream at his balls and then walked away?" Lucio asked, raising his voice with anger at being ignored.

"PRIVATES ARE NEW SOLDIERS. HE SAID HE WAS YELLING AT THE NEW SOLDIERS, IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HIS BALLS. GO TO BED." Julian screamed. Everyone at the camp looked at them, and then erupted with laughter. "FUCK!" he yelled. "Now I'll be remembered for that."

"Yea. You're the ball doctor now." Lucio said.

"Would you like them amputated?" 

"No."

"Goodnight." Ilya said, covering his head with his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care how little this ends up reflecting canon so don't @ me bc I don't care


End file.
